After the Fact
by hellomynameislucifer
Summary: After the Queen Zenobia, Raymond and Parker contemplate their roles and how it affects them after all is said and done. Of course, nothing ever really is said and done. I DO NOT OWN RESIDENT EVIL.
1. Chapter 1

"Almost too easy, wasn't it?" She looked up from her book to face him properly. "The company let them take Morgan out with the trash."

"Tough world." He had no desire to engage Jessica any more than he had to. He dropped off the glass cylinder, and his work here was done.

"You file the report on this."

Her turned and walked a few steps away from the table, obviously finished with the conversation. Of course the brunette just _had_ to add one more thing. He paused as she spoke, deciding he would be able to leave faster if he stayed and answered quickly. His patience with Jessica was wearing thin.

"By the way... Why save Parker?"

He would have snorted, if it weren't for the fact that he really had no desire to get into a discussion about _this_. As if he would ever tell _her_, or anyone, for that matter, his reasons for saving Parker Luciani. No, those were best just kept to himself and hidden away in one of the many dark corridors of his mind. Somewhere even he would have trouble finding it. He turned slowly and deliberately, taking off his sunglasses to look right into Jessica's eyes.

"I have my reasons," he stated simply.

There. If she wanted more, too wasn't going to get it.

"The BSAA isn't as useless as I thought. Things could really heat up."

He replaced the shades over his eyes and turned to leave; for real, this time.

"Indeed. The fun's just getting started." He threw a wave behind him, a signal of finality.

Parker was fine again. After a few weeks of confusion (and no small amount of trauma), the agent had pulled through. He returned to his duties as an agent, and he seemed perfectly fine. He wasn't, really. He told everyone he was, but he really wasn't. Jill checked up on him constantly, which was no small comfort. He liked talking to Jill. Chris would also pop by, occasionally. Parker didn't mind talking to him, either, though he knew Jill better.

Were it not for them- his friends, he thinks-, he might not have pulled through. He might still be in that hospital. Or back in it. He still waked up in a cold sweat, dreaming of fire and screams that never seem to end. He remembers Jessica; mostly how she shot Raymond. He had been terrified, absolutely terrified. In that moment, another thought made itself know. Raymond was also a spy. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. It just seemed to fit.

He never said anything about it, though. Of course he couldn't. The other man had saved his life. It hadn't been about returning the favour, either. When they were in the FBC, there had been many near death experiences. The events on the Queen Zenobia had nothing to do with those days. He had pulled his beaten up body from the fiery water, limping away from the wreckage. When he found Raymond (or had Raymond found him?), it had been too much. He collapsed, the exertion from both swimming and walking overbearing.

He had given up. For a brief moment, as he stood after forcing his limbs to pull himself up and out of the burning water, there had been hope. Then, he started walking. It was if the fire had moved to his veins, burning, consuming. He could barely walk, and he was oh-so-tired. Raymond wouldn't leave him, though. They had almost gotten stuck so many times, and Parker himself had given up on ever getting out. Raymond had told him to "keep going," "they were almost there," "he could do this."

And, he had. He still couldn't remember exactly how they had escaped, and even waking up on the beach was hazy. But, he had survived. He had survived, and it was a miracle. Well, it would have been, if not for Raymond. After the fact, he didn't see the other man. He didn't ask, either, and no one said a word. He wondered, though. Was he also a spy (in which case he would have been right in his suspicions)? Did he simply vanish?

There were a few occasions, though, when he had woken up in the hospital, bleary eyes, and he could swear there was a flash of red hair at the door. He could have been dreaming- hallucinating, even-, but Parker knew better. After all, how could he be imagining a visitor when all of his hallucinations always had to do with fire and falling? He decided not to ask the nurses about it; there were never any nearby whenever he saw that familiar red hair. Once he was a bit more mobile, maybe Parker would look for him. Or, maybe Raymond would find Parker. Somehow, Parker knew the latter was more likely to happen.

Raymond had visited, against his better judgement. Why wouldn't he? Because Jessica might find out? All he did was get the damn vial. He wouldn't do anything else for her. She _knew_ it was him masquerading as Veltro; knew she was shooting Raymond. She shot anyway. She didn't care, not in the slightest. Everything she did was to serve her own purposes, and no one, not even one on her own side, would be spared. As with all things, Raymond had his reasons for giving Jessica the vial. Just as he had he reasons for saving Parker. And visiting him.

He decided not to have any direct confrontations with the man. Not until he was better, anyway. He kept in contact with Jill and Chris, remaining evasive in his answers as to where he was and what he was doing. He told them he would think about joining the BSAA, but wasn't quite sure. He said he needed to think things over. In reality, he already had. Raymond already come to the conclusion the second time he snuck into the hospital room to check on Parker.

He chuckled to himself. Why he had decided to go with that man, even he wasn't entirely sure. Oh, he knew part of the reason. The reason hidden in those corridors of his mind. That was actually a fairly large part of why he made the decision to go where Parker went. Also to keep him out of trouble, and maybe be kept out of trouble, himself (they always had that funny way of knowing when the other needed help). Interesting. Raymond Vester was surprised by himself, and that very rarely, if almost never, happened. He chuckled. All because of that man.

* * *

**Author's Note: This was just something that popped into my head a little while ago while I was editing 'That Much Red' for shadesofmidnightsun (yes, that is a hint to go read it because it's really awesome). My brother was playing Revelations in the background, and he commented on Parker and Raymond being the chosen characters during Raid Mode. So, my brain being the way it is, came up with a little something. I know, it's not really obvious that this is Raymond/Parker, but trust me when I say it is. That's basically the whole premise of this little fic. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. This was intended as a oneshot, but I may add another chapter (or another few chapters) if anyone really wants any. Thanks for reading!**

**You can also find me at AO3 and Tumblr under the same username (hellomynameislucifer). I posted this story on AO3 first, so you may have seen it there.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Not sure if I should move this up to T. I don't think so, but I've never really had a problem with things like this (I watched Buffy and Lord of the Rings when I was three, among other things). I'm mostly referring to some cursing (nothing too bad, but there is a bit more than last chapter, fi there was any) and some violent thoughts. Well, let me know what you think.

* * *

Raymond Vester considered himself a subtle man. He was calm and mysterious in a way that left barely any room for questions; there were too many missing variables to ask more than what was already there. He also knew he was not an idiot by any standard. Well, except for that one thing. But that was the only thing, he swore it was.

Raymond assumed most people either drifted along in blissful ignorance about their future or had a dead-set objective. By normal standards, Raymond should fit into one of the groups, more of less. The problem is that he does not. Maybe his idea of normalcy is somewhat warped, but he cannot fathom why it should be _this_ messed up.

_It's not stalking_, he told himself. That was a blatant lie, but he disregarded his stupid conscience and took a sip of coffee. He just could not get that damn man out of his head. Every time he tried to ignore the thoughts, they just burst into the forefront of his mind at the most inappropriate times. Not to mention how inconvenient it was to start spacing out when the idiot receptionist was already doing pretty much the same thing. But he digresses.

_Again, it really can't be considered stalking. I'm just making sure he doesn't accidentally kill himself._ Which was a ridiculous idea in on itself. As if Parker would kill himself. Raymond supposes he is being a bit paranoid (he also supposes that might be a bit of an understatement). Then again, the agent had only recently been let back into the field. How many hours had the red-head spent tracking his records and hacking into the mainframe (it was not even that difficult, really. They needed to get better security).

He should not be so content, either. He should be jittery and annoyed from sitting on his ass all day (even tailing the brunette should not be this interesting). But it is, and it really pisses him off. He takes another sip of coffee, scowling at the lukewarm drink. How long has he been sitting here? Half an hour? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there is ice on the lamp posts and snow in the streets. He notices the other man stand up and start walking away. Raymond proceeds to count to three before standing up and pausing to toss out the paper cup. He does not bother finishing it.

* * *

It was not as if the man was being subtle. If anything, he stuck out like a red laser sight on a blank sheet of off-white paper. Still, Parker tried to ignore it and go about his day like usual. His suspicions were confirmed when the other man stood up and threw the drink in the trash. Really, he did not even wait a few more seconds. It was blatantly obvious that he was tailing the brunette.

Parker glances at his reflection in the glass of a department store window. He is too far ahead to also see his stalker behind him in the glass, but that does not bother him. He figures he will have plenty of chances to catch sight of the other man while he walks around.

He has half a mind to turn around and just smirk at the other (former?) agent, but he refrains from doing so. That might just scare him off. There is also the little fact that Parker is not one hundred percent sure who it is. Oh, he has a pretty good idea, but it would be better to wait just a bit longer to see if he can make out any of his features.

Parker considers walking into a cramped shoe store. He does not need new shoes, though, so he passes by. His eye catches a small book shop, and he crosses the street to reach it. The bell rings as he pulls the door open, the smell of musty old books hits his nose. How he loves that smell. At the right his a shelf of newer books (some are merely newer copies), and he sidles up to the shelf, scanning the titles for something familiar.

He chuckles when the door bell tinkles; he knows exactly who it is. His admirer meanders around the middle of the store. Parker figures he is an idiot for not being wary of someone who could be a stranger (and potential murderer, or worse), but he cannot bring himself to care. His fingers brush over the faded cover of an old favourite. _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_, by Jules Verne. He remembers how much he used to love the part with the giant squid, even though he knew it was no more than an old tale. He wonders if it truly is... After what he has seen, anything could be possible.

He grabs the book and strides over to the counter, passing by the only other person in the store, aside from the cashier. His eyes immediately notice a single strand of red hair that has escaped the confines of the winter hat on its owner's head. A brief glance at the man's face tells him all he need to know, and Parker allows himself as small smile. Raymond. Of course.

* * *

Raymond curses himself for going into the bookstore. Parker might have seen him. No, scratch that. He _did_ see him. Well, it was somewhat inevitable. He leaves before that stupid book is paid for (a book about monsters at sea, of all things. Raymond has certainly had enough of sea monsters to last two lifetimes. As if he needs to _read_ about the damn things).

If Parker wants to read it, then so be it, but Raymond plans to avoid the thing at all costs. _At least it wasn't a horror book or something equally ridiculous. I think I just might have throttled him if he picked up something like that, morals be damned._ He would never actually hurt Parker (his recent paranoia is proof enough of that). Sometimes, though, he really got on the red-head's nerves. For some reason, this never actually deterred Raymond. If Raymond ever gets the chance to meet past-him, he swears he will punch himself.

With all the crap that he has seen through the years, he files away the idea just in case. Raymond returns his focus to the present and stands on the sidewalk for a few moments. Should he stay and talk to Parker? Should he just keep his distance and keep following him? Or should he go home? As much as the idea of finally approaching the brunette appeals to him, he knows the time to say hello is not quite right. After all, he has a truckload of explaining to do. Raymond decides to wait for another day.

It should not sting so much that he left. It is not entirely surprising, but it is still... disappointing. Yes, that is the word. He can understand it, though. At least, he can understand part of it. A spy. Parker has been sure of that for awhile. Raymond probably does not know that he already knows, though, so maybe that is why he left. Maybe he was not supposed to be seen. Maybe it is because of something else entirely. Whatever the reason, he left, and Parker cannot help but be bitter. It has been almost six months, and neither has said a word to the other.

And he knows Chris and Jill have been talking to Raymond. They have both alluded to such in multiple conversations. No matter. One of these days, they _will_ talk, and Parker _will _make sure Raymond listens to everything he has to say. The question is no longer if it will happen, but when. He hopes it will be soon.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Feedback is much appreciated (helps me know what I'm doing wrong/what you want to see, etc. Even for future fics or requests).


	3. Chapter 3

A week passed without even a glimpse of the red-head. Parker knew any sane person would be relieved that someone has stopped stalking them, friend or otherwise. He was anything _but_ relieved. The absence proved it was Raymond in the bookstore. And in the hospital, as well.

Whether he had stopped following Parker or is now being much more careful about being seen remains a mystery. Whatever the case, there is no more flash of red, no random person drinking coffee at the opposite end of the room. He misses it.

As his thoughts start to further their descent into recent memories, Parker's jacket pocket starts vibrating. He sighs tiredly and pulls out the grey Nokia, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Parker. Who's calling?"

"Hey! It's Jill, by the way. I thought you had caller ID?"

"Yeah, I do. I didn't look at it."

"Ah, okay. So, what's up? You sound pretty drained."

"That's because I am," he states flatly.

"Alright, no need to get snappy."

Parker sighs again. "What'd you call for? Did something happen?"

"No..."

He could sense the hesitancy in her voice. It was almost tangible.

"Jill."

"Really, it's nothing. I just called to check up on you. To make sure you were getting enough sleep and all that."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. Speaking of, you should get some rest."

"I'll think about it."

"Mmm. Oh, and expect a call tomorrow morning. It could end up being nothing, but they're sending out a team to make sure."

"Fine. Good night, Jill."

"Goodnight. And, Parker?"

"Yes?"

"It looks like someone's been hacking into the servers. They're only looking at _your_ files, though. Be careful, okay?"

"Will do."

He hangs up, shaking his head. So Raymond is keeping and eye on him, huh? Somehow, he finds the idea comforting.

* * *

"Damn game," he growls.

The game had long since become boring, yet Raymond still continues to play the stupid thing. He likes Playstation games in general, but Black Ops (all Call of Duty games, really) are painfully dull. He does not even know how the shitty game came into his possession in the first place. Maybe it was in the package with the console, or maybe it was a gift.

The match ends, and Raymond has won, yet again. Too easy. Were this Xbox Live and not Playstation, he surely would never hear the end of it. Those immature brats would probably accuse him of cheating. He snorts. As if. Raymond exits out of the lobby and quits the game.

"Guess I should get some lunch..."

His eyes drift over to the unassuming laptop in the corner of the room. Should he...? No, it would be best to stay away. Parker was required to send in his whereabouts every few hours (mostly because his job always left him at risk, partly because not everyone believed he had fully recovered). Raymond thinks the not-yet-recovered thing is a load of bullshit (come on, he had been following the guy around for _how long_?), but there is not much he can do about it.

Unless he comes clean about the hacking, which would be way more trouble than it is worth. Sure, they _might_ find out it is him, anyway. But, by that time, Raymond will have come up with a perfect cover story. The BSAA could be so gullible. Not that he is complaining; far from it.

He extricates himself from the warm, fuzzy blanket tangled up around his legs and shuffles over to his fridge. He wrinkles his nose at the half-empty bottle of mustard and the carton of milk that is who even knows how old. He sighs in frustration and stomps to his room, yanking off his shirt, pants, and underwear and stepping into the shower. He finishes rather quickly, not finding the freezing cold water particularly pleasant.

On go the jeans and the nice, button down shirt. He pulls on a blue tie and ties it into a Windsor knot. Raymond ends up ripping off and throwing both socks at the wall upon finding a hole in one of them. He sneers at the worn, brown loafers sitting innocently by the nightstand. Whose stupid idea was it to buy those, anyway? Oh, right. His. Well, at least they are comfortable. He grabs his keys and drops himself unceremoniously into the swivel chair by the laptop.

It seems to take forever to turn the damned thing on, and his fingers, usually furiously tapping over the keys, seem to be typing way too slow for his liking. It take three minutes for the program to start running, then another five minutes to find Parker's whereabouts. Raymond rolls his eyes when he sees where he has chosen to eat. It must be the fates. Or his own subconscious purposely forgetting to buy more food. Never mind that he has been eating out every day since Parker was put in the hospital. _Weeks_. It is lucky his paycheck is so generous. Being a double agent does have its benefits.

Raymond shuts off the computer, his temper not improving in the slightest. Time to go see Parker. Time to irreparably damage any chances he ever had of remaining friends with the brunette. This should be fun.

* * *

Seeing Parker again should feel so much better than this. It should make him feel so happy he could sing, so elated he could almost literally fly. Instead, his stomach is twisting into knots and his hands are clammy. It is cold out, but he is sweating.

Raymond almost leaves. He is so close to turning around and just putting it off for another day, or another week, or another _month_. But then he sees _her_. He does not know exactly who _she_ is, just that she is staring at Parker and refuses to take her eyes off him. And then she stands up and starts walking over to him. That really might be the last straw.

He strides over to the table, glad there are not many people around to look up and notice him. The woman has a saccharine smile plastered on her face and is opening here heavily-lipsticked lips to greet Parker when Raymond reaches the ugly white table.

"Parker."

The man starts upon hearing the familiar voice, his head whipping around so his brown eyes can confirm what his ears have already heard. The woman stands there, stunned, and at a complete loss for words. Raymond automatically feels guilty that his knee-jerk reaction was to peg this woman as some starry-eyed teenager with a crush.

Just because she is smiling and happens to be wearing lipstick (and is beautiful) does not mean he should judge her. Besides, Parker was sitting here alone. Which is his own fault. She looks at the ground, obviously embarrassed, and leaves. Raymond turns his attention back to Parker.

"Raymond," Parker breathes.

He lets a small smile grace his lips. God, how long has it been since he has smiled? Damn Zenobia. Damn _Jessica_.

"May I sit?"

Parker blinks. "Sure, sure."

_No backing out now, Raymond. Looks like you actually have to go through with this, then._Is he waiting for Raymond to speak? What the hell should he say? What _does_ one say after they have been avoiding/stalking a good friend for weeks? To his infinite gratitude, Parker speaks first.

"It's been awhile."

"Yeah, you could say that," he mutters.

"Been busy?"

_Yeah, stalking _you_. And how was you're time in the hospital?Boring to the point of tears, I imagine?_

"In a sense. And you? Heard you were hospitalized for quite awhile."

Parker shrugs. "Yeah. Took a long time before I stopped waking up surrounded by fire."

And that is the exact point Raymond finally notices how much weight Parker has lost. The shirt hides it, but his face and arms betray it. And it does not look healthy in the least. Raymond takes a deep breath and swallows hard.

"I can relate. After Terragrigia..."

Parker laughs without humour. "Believe me, now I know."

From there, the discussion becomes lighter, if still important. Raymond relaxes, falling back into the conversation as if it is the most normal thing. In a way, it is. They sit and talk for so long Raymond forgets all about lunch, forgets how he had been avoiding this man, and forgets to tell Parker he was a spy. It is only when he is leaving that he remembers, and a sigh escapes his lips. It looks like he will have to bring that up another day. In the meantime, he will consider this a glowing victory. One small step at a time. Until the next catastrophe, that is really all he needs.

* * *

Not sure if anyone's actually reading this or if they keep clicking on, then 'x'ing out/accidentally clicking on the story (because there are definitely views), so I'm gonna keep this short. Should I continue this and make it really long or start on something else? If you want (much) more details, go to _After the Fact_ on my Archive of Our Own account. It's under the same pen name (hellomynameislucifer) and is my only story currently on there. Thanks for reading, and hope you are enjoying it/have enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter 4

His heart beats furiously. Why his stupid self chose today of all days is beyond him. It could have been any other day, but no, of course he had to open his mouth and spout those treacherous words. He cannot take it back, now. And he still has not come up with some excuse or another story that would fit. Those ridiculous words. Why did they have to be worded so?

"I need to tell you something. Something important. I should have told you back on the _Zenobia_, but..."

"Of course. What is it?"

"I... I don't want to tell you over the phone. Dinner?"

And that is how it had gone. Raymond furiously glares at himself in the mirror. _Traitor_, he thinks. _How ironic_. He fixes the blue tie for the umpteenth time, deciding that no, he does not like how it contrasts with the pink button-down shirt. He wrinkles his nose as he yanks the tie off and tosses it into some random corner of the room. Why does he even own a pink shirt? It is as much of a mystery as why he owns Black Ops.

"Considering the way my brain has been acting up lately, I wouldn't be surprised if _I_ was the one who bought them," he grumbles to himself.

After another ten minutes of unsatisfying colours, Raymond just goes with a coffee shirt and mocha tie. It is not the most creative combination he has ever made, but it should do. He did have a date, after all. Although he would never refer to it as that out loud. That could end badly... _Very_ badly. He strides to the door and pulls it open in one, smooth movement. It closes with a click.

* * *

"Never thought you'd choose this place."

Raymond chuckles. "Neither did I."

Parker raises an eyebrow, deciding not to comment. The restaurant is called The Promenade, which is hugely ironic for a number of reasons. Why Raymond chose this particular place is beyond him. He had agreed, all the same, so his sanity could be questioned just as readily. The place gives him this sense of foreboding, although that could just be nerves.

"You wanted to tell me something. Shall we eat first, or shall we talk?"

Raymond frowns. "I don't know. I suppose it would be better to just get it over with, but..."

"But it's something you don't particularly want to tell me," Parker finishes, and glint in his eyes.

Raymond blinks, not quite sure what to make of the knowing aura his partner is exuding. He is saved from having to think up a response to that by the waiter. He smiles pleasantly, and it does not appear to be forced.

"What can I get you to drink?"

_Some scotch. Maybe some bourbon, if not that. Damn, I need some alcohol._

"Just a water for me, thanks," he says instead. Alcohol could only mean disaster, in this situation.

"I'll take a beer-"

Raymond glares at Parker, knowing all to well about his recent drinking problem.

"Er, make that an iced tea, if you please."

"Sure thing. They'll be right out."

Parker nods in thanks, grimacing as he turns back to face his friend. "You know about the drinking, then?"

Raymond scowls. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

Parker shrugs. "Eh, don't know why I would think otherwise. You've been following me for awhile, so it's only natural."

Raymond narrows his eyes and decides now is a great time to open the menu and actually look for something to eat. The first thing he sees is some weird salmon dish. _Haha, no way. I am not going near fish for the next hundred years, thanks._He settles for some pasta with marinara sauce. That should be harmless, for the most part.

Parker's eyes follow the menu as it is closed and placed on the table. "What are you getting?"

"Pasta. I don't trust the damn fish."

He laughs at that. "I'm gonna get steak."

The waiter returns with their drinks not soon after, takes their orders, and walks off again.

Raymond takes a sip of his drink and stares at the mauve table cloth. He notes a single string that sticks out near the bottom while the rest of it is immaculate.

"I suppose you're the hacker, then."

Raymond almost spits out his water. In his effort to keep the fluid in, he coughs and chokes until it is all down his throat.

"What?"

"Well, you always know where I am. That and the fact that I never told anyone about the drinking after Terragrigia, though they are in the files. And that's the only place aside from my mind where they reside."

"Ah... I see." The red-head clears his throat, thoroughly surprised.

"Raymond."

"Hmm?" He looks up at his name.

"Tell me." The look in his eyes says all.

Raymond nods. There is no point in avoiding the topic any longer.

"I... You should know that... Jessica wasn't the only spy on the Zenobia..."

There is a long silence that seems to stretch forever, until Parker breaks it.

"I know," Parker says simply.

Raymond furrows his brow and looks long and hard at the brunette. "You... already know?"

"Well, yes, I suspected as much. Too much of what happened was... too convenient."

"And you never said anything? You've been talking to me all this time?" he splutters.

Parker shrugs. "You may have been a spy, but you did save my life. And I don't think a complete traitor would force someone to keep going, now would they?"

"No... I guess not..."

The rest of the night is spent in silence. Raymond can tell Parker is happy by no definition, but he gets it. And that feels like someone is twisting a corkscrew into his gut, only to rip it out and do it again. When they finish, both stand and contemplate each other for a brief moment.

"I suppose I'll see you again," Parker finally says.

"Yes, I guess you will."

"Don't... Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"You... I won't."

They shake hands. It is not the most promising parting, but it is not the last. And as guilty as Raymond feels, he knows this was a good thing. It was good that he did this. And he will right things. Somehow, some way, he will fix it. He will not let next time be the last time. Of that, he is certain.

* * *

And so it ends. Hope you enjoyed reading this. I certainly enjoyed writing it! Aaaaaanyway, this isn't the end. That's right, there's going to be a sequel! Or something like that. In any case, I have some more over on my AO3 (same username, etcetera, etcetera). Thanks for reading!


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